Wednesday, August 23, 2017

While driving through suburban New
Jersey in August 2017, my mother and I stumbled across a magical
sight where colorful feisty little creatures thrived in bustling
tranquility amongst the oblivious humans around them.

We were on our way home from an estate
sale and decided to drive down some side streets which we had never
visited, as the homes looked rich and elegant.

House after house was pristine and
well-maintained with lush green lawns, perfectly pruned hedges, and
sophisticated landscaping most likely up-kept by hired maintenance
workers rather than the home owners themselves. It was a weekend and
we hardly saw one person outside on these quiet streets, aside from
scattered workers with lawn mowers.

At first, the vast green landscapes
were refreshing and I felt like I was surrounded by nature. Wide blue
skies soaked every house in sunlight spanning across each front and
backyard.

Then we approached a home which looked
like it was still being built and was under construction; the
property had not been "developed" yet. While approaching
it, I caught a fast glimpse of an unexpected bright yellow "ball"
dart across the street in front of us, from right to left, around 8
feet in the air.

"What was that?!," I
wondered. My first thought was that it flew with the speed of a
dragonfly, but it was brighter, fatter and larger than any dragonfly I
had ever seen. Is there a giant species of fluorescent yellow
dragonfly that I haven't heard of yet? Or perhaps it was a humming
bird or a butterfly which I mistook for something larger? All I knew
is that it was bright, fast, and out of sight as quickly as it had
appeared.

As we drove closer to the new home, I
noticed more of these yellow creatures- first one, then two, and then
three- darting through and landing upon tall wild purple thistle
bushes with long stems covered in pointy thorns growing in between
large boulders in front of the property. These proud thistle bushes
waved in the wind while the magical yellow creatures danced among
them. I later learned these sunny personalities were American
Goldfinch birds.

The abundant clusters of purple
thistles were taller than a human and scattered among wild plants and
diverse weeds. Most likely, these plants had not been touched for
decades, or more, and were allowed to grow freely. The property was a
pristine untouched patch of land with which man had not yet tampered,
where wildlife thrived.

I took out my camera with excitement
and curiosity and began zooming in and taking photos of these special
little birds. I also stopped at various times and put my camera down
to observe and absorb their movements so as to feel part of this
experience, so not to be merely obsessed with capturing it without
appreciating it.

These fast yellow birds looked so out
of place, yet so at home in their little weedy oasis. The more I
observed them, the more I realized they were picking off the seeds
from the lightweight white puffs tightly packed inside the luscious
thistle buds.

Their little feet were not bothered by
the massive thorns on every stem. Each bird seemed to know exactly
what it was doing, grabbing onto a bud with his or her tiny claws and
sticking their short little beaks inside the bud, aggressively
yanking out condensed puffs to reach the seeds at each puff's base.
As they stuck their determined little heads into the opening of each
bud as far as they could go, newly loosened puffs were released into
the air and went flying through the breeze like a thousand wishes.

The Goldfinches diligently tried to
pick off every seed they could catch before the wind took hold and
the puffs blew away. The sky above this patch of land was filled with
a sea of scattered puffs carried by light breezes, as more puffs
joined the atmosphere each time the pressure inside another bud was
released.

I wondered why I felt so connected to
this small, wild, and active place. It wasn't long before I realized
it reminded me of the block on which I grew up when there were still
two undeveloped plots of land among my neighbors' homes. My mom and I
used to take nature walks in "the woods" as we called them,
even though the lands more closely resembled wild fields of tall
grasses, weeds, and wildflowers rather than actual woods (it's a good
thing I wasn't as fearful of ticks as I am now or I never would have
set foot in those fields!).

I was probably around age 3-6 when we
would spend afternoons exploring the beetles and butterflies of these
natural lands. Even at my own house, I remember the wildlife and
insects were far more abundant than I have seen in recent years. I
often saw unusual butterflies and beetles in my yard which seem to
disappear more each year. Some species I haven't seen in over 20
years.

Eventually, by the time I was around
7-10 years old, "the woods" were being developed and 2
homes were built in their place. Those were the last vacant lots on
my block back then in the mid-late 1980's, and the loss of those wild
fields was accompanied by the loss of every creature who called the
land their home.

Seeing these wild purple thistles and
Goldfinches interacting in this untouched paradise reminded me of how
abundant land is in its natural state before it becomes developed.
Each property, each small patch of ground, is an entire ecosystem
where each creature and plant is dependent on each other. These tiny
universes were once part of endless expanses of natural forests and
fields. Each time a house goes up, another piece of the universe
vanishes and the land becomes silent.

I spent around an hour watching and
photographing these birds. I counted at least 6 of them, each tearing
apart a dried thistle bud, yanking out the seeds ready to erupt, and
then flying off to choose another bud at the end of a thorn-covered
stem on which to land and start the process again. They took turns on
different branches, darting past each other, sometimes confronting
each other, flapping from bud to bud during their busy lunch.

During this time, my mother, still in the
car, cleaned out her purse and organized papers as I tend to spend a
lot of time with photography, and she is used to situations like
this. I am thankful for her extreme patience!

The house behind this wild scene was
covered in scaffolding while trucks of men performed construction
work in the distance.

It is my assumption that the wild lands
will eventually be covered in grass and mulch once this home is
purchased and another small but unique ecosystem will be lost in
favor of "development". I hope I am wrong, but time will
tell.

Reflecting on this battle of control as
well as the potential balance between man and nature, I thought of
architect Frank Lloyd Wright's style of designing and building and
how different his approach was than that of many developers. Wright
believed in designing homes into the land, around the
existing trees, within the existing waterfalls, encasing the
existing boulders of the forest, even if it meant those boulders
ended up inside the rooms.

Often, it seems like many landscapers
level a piece of land, cut down the trees, yank out the indigenous
plants, and stick a house in the middle of a flat lot void of any
natural life it once nurtured.

Many home owners continue to
proliferate this mentality by moving into a new home and immediately
laying down mulch or grass where wild plants once grew, so that they
have less land to worry about maintaining.

After I finished photographing these
lively and hard-working birds, I reflected that nowhere else on the
surrounding blocks were there any Goldfinches. After all, where else
could they go after their home and food source is taken away from
them?

After experiencing this sight, as we
drove out of the area, the pristine houses with their grand lawns and
trimmed hedges no longer looked refreshing; they looked dead. They
looked like man's stamp of arrogance had branded the land as "Humans
Only- Nature Keep Out". What they forgot is that humans are
nature; we come from the same force which created all life on earth
and we are part of, not distant from, the natural world. The more of
nature we lose, the more of ourselves we lose as well.

We can all have an impact on reviving
the populations of birds, insects, plants and other creatures which
once thrived in abundance regardless of where we live. While it's
wonderful that there are so many large-scale conservation causes to
protect endangered species and far away lands, let us not forget the
land in our own backyard which can be just as rich as any exotic
place.

By planting a garden of indigenous
plants instead of covering the earth with grass and mulch, every home
has the potential to become a life-giving ecosystem of its own.

By allowing "weeds" to
prosper, we might come to realize that many of these natural plants
are actually quite beautiful, flower-bearing, and appealing to many
creatures who feed on them and live among their shelter.

I hope you enjoy these photos of an
abundant Goldfinch community in the middle of suburban lands. May
they inspire all of us to share our properties with the creatures who
also call the land their home.

~Nicole Denise (photos below)

*** The zoomed-in photos of the Goldfinches were taken with the Canon SX50 camera. The far away photographs of the house, landscape, and scaffolding at the bottom of this series were taken with the Canon T4i DSLR camera. Special thanks to photographers and
birders Lillian and Don Stokes whose blog inspired me to purchase the
Canon SX50. I had bought the camera several seasons ago with other projects in
mind, but what an incredible camera it is with which to photograph birds due to its long distance zoom! Thank you Lillian and Don. The Stokes Birding
Blog can be seen at: